


pulykalakoma

by Anonymous



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anti-Republican Sentiment, Body Horror, Cheese, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Vore, Crack, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Food, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Valdo Marx, Kaer Morhen, Kaer Morhen's Fanon Hot Springs (The Witcher), Kink Shaming, M/M, Omorashi, Piss, Politics, Polyamory, Smut, Twink Jaskier | Dandelion, Vore, Witchersexual Jaskier | Dandelion, no beta we die like your brain cells will reading this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:48:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27593681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Geralt, Jaskier, Eskel, and Lambert have a veritablefeastin the hot springs of Kaer Morhen.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert, Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Comments: 15
Kudos: 19
Collections: Anonymous





	pulykalakoma

Lounging around the hot springs of Kaer Morhen, four naked men stared at each other, their respective dicks bobbing in the steamy air.

“How does my dick look, little lark,” Geralt murmured seductively, his golden eyes almost swallowed by the black of his pupils. “Write an ode to my great cock.”

“It looks like a turkey, dear heart,” Jaskier whispered back, gazing at Geralt’s monster cock with unadulterated affection. “A wonderful, juicy, delicious turkey.”

“Really?” Geralt gasped, a hand moving to cover his turkey dick, his mouth forming a surprised ‘o’.   
“Yes,” Jaskier murmured, voice husky with lust. “Uncooked.”

“Delicious,” said Eskel, licking his lips as he gazed at Geralt’s turkey dick. “10/10 would eat. It would make the most plentiful meal.”

“Gods, Eskel, stop making me so fucking hungry when I’m horny,” Lambert groaned. “I _don’t want_ to fantasise about eating Geralt’s dick!”

“BUT VORE!!!!” cried Jaskier needily, gnashing his teeth together at the thought of _vore_. “Think of the vore!”

“Shit, you’re right,” Lambert conceded, proceeding to bend down and promptly begin to munch on Geralt’s turkey, sharp teeth biting through firm flesh with ease as the former moaned in both pleasure and pain - but mostly, according to the expert deductions of detectives everywhere, in pain.

“What about _MY_ dick?!” Jaskier exclaimed, wiggling his hips so that his dick bounced up and down, up and down. “Does my dick look good enough to eat?"

Lambert appraised him. “No,” he said, disapproval colouring his voice, “but I’m not a picky eater.”

He knelt before Jaskier, taking his flaccid and rather small penis in his mouth and chomping down on it with remarkable gusto. Red blood spurted like a fountain as Jaskier shrieked in agony.

Lambert grinned up at him with bloody teeth. “Got your turkey.”

Jaskier cradled his half-eaten dick, the imprints of Lambert’s sharp teeth visible on the edges. “Did you enjoy it?” he gasped in pain, Eskel watching behind them with immense interest and hungry eyes.

“Better than Thanksgiving?” Eskel continued, pretending that he knew something about the Land of the Free, even though he really knew nothing about the land of the free apart from the fact that it was filled with horrible people.

Contradicting this again, it can here be stated that all of those present, in fact, were a repository of knowledge about the USA, but all were in denial of it.

“Fuck, no!” Jaskier shrieked. “Better than _Christmas!_ ”

“Lmao,” Lambert said, moving forward to finish Jaskier’s little prick off, like a less-than-hearty dessert.

“Oh, Lambert!” Jaskier moaned, throwing his head back as Geralt crawled over to gnaw on his balls. “Oh, _Geralt_ , that feels so good, more, please - please - oh, this is wonderful -”

“Eskel, come take a bite,” Lambert muttered as he took a break from the feast. “He tastes like tofu. Feels like it too.”

“Bite of what?” Eskel sniped. “You’ve not fucking left anything for me, have you? I’ll have to have a go at you, if I’m to be filled up, Lambert.”

“Me?” Lambert gasped, jerking his head away from the remaining bits of Jaskier’s dick, eyes wide with shock. “But - but I taste like cheese! You won’t like it!

“I love cheese,” Eskel growled. “I’m from Wisconsin.”

“Wisconsin tastes nice,” Geralt mumbled, voice muffled as he chews on the bits of Jaskier’s balls, blood dribbling down his chin. “Very chewy. The texture - strong and full of mold. Excellent.”

“Oh, my gods,” Jaskier gasped. “Me, too. I share a texture with Wisconsin!”

“Exactly,” Eskel smirked. “And didn’t you just agree that Jaskier tasted amazing?”

Caught out, Lambert opened and closed his mouth, bits of dick skin falling from his lips. “I… but you - but eating is bad!”

“You _just_ ate two dicks,” Jaskier pointed out, and immediately orgasmed dicklessly.

Ignoring Lambert’s pleas, Eskel knelt down and closed his mouth around Lambert’s massive dick, so much bigger than Jaskier’s currently nonexistent one. “Mm,” Eskel hummed around a mouthful of dick, using his Trials-enhanced canines to chomp savagely down on Lambert’s thick shaft. “Delicious. Like Wisconsin. Like cheese. Cheese fondue.”

Tossing the mangled flesh around in his mouth, Eskel appraised the flavour. “Lambert, is this piss that I taste? Were you about to piss yourself, you little bitch? Is there piss in my mouth, you fucking _dick-biscuit?_ ”

Ignored by the wolves, Jaskier sobbed softly in the corner, blood running in rivulets down his slim, twinky legs, “I can’t piss anymore, where will it all go?”

“Lambert’s mouth,” Geralt piped up, unhelpfully, as Eskel spat the half-eaten dick on the floor, before a cowering Lambert.

“How dare you have piss in your dick,” Eskel snarled at Lambert, baring his bloody teeth. “How dare it not taste like cheese, like you promised it would? It didn’t even feel like cheese! Cheese feels weird and squishy but your dick is crunchy, what the fuck? I think you deserve a _punishment_ for lying to me, hmm?”

Jaskier perked up. “Is this why Vesemir called you Pissdick Lamboy?”

Immediately, Lambert burst into tears. “He called me _what?_ ” he sobbed sadly, burying his face into his hands. “I’m not Pissdick Lamboy! I’m Cheesedude Supreme!”

“False,” Geralt countered. “Vesemir always calls you Pissdick Lamboy when you aren’t there. Like this morning, he said to me, ‘hey, Geralt, can you go fetch Pissdick Lamboy from his room to do his fucking chores already?’, like he always does.”

“NO, BUT PISS TASTES BAD AND SO DOES LAMB!!!11!1!” Lambert screamed, stomping the ground, the movement caused glistening droplets of piss to fall out from the remaining bits of his cock, falling to the ground and rolling into the hot springs. “I TASTE LIKE CHEESE. CHEESE GOOD. CHEESE _G O O D_.”

“Ok, Pissdick Lamboy,” Eskel said, unimpressed. Pissdick Lamboy howled in rage.

“I AM THE CHEESEDUDE SUPREME!” he yowled, shaking his fist and his dick aggressively. “TASTE MORE OF ME, THE PARTS WITHOUT PISS. I’LL PROVE TO YOU THAT I AM MADE OF MORE THAN PISS. I AM MORE THAN WHAT VESEMIR THINKS I AM!”

“All of your dick has piss in it, Pissdick Lamboy,” Geralt lectured. “That’s how the urethra works. NEPHRON!”

“BUT MY BALLS,” Lambert wailed, gripping his heavy balls. “Or the rest of my body! My nose, my fingers, my ears, whatever! Those don’t have piss! At least, I don’t think so?”

“Your balls don’t have piss,” Geralt conceded, “but the rest of you doesn’t look like a turkey. You need to retake biology, if that’s how piss-poor - lmao pun intended - your animal classification work is. Vesemir would cry.”

“Okay but my entire being tastes like cheese! Like Wisconsin!” Lambert tried to convince the others, who stared at him blankly and without comprehension. “Try? My balls? Please. _Blease_.”

“How about his toes,” Jaskier suggested, raunchily.

“OHHHH TOES,” Geralt whispered, eyes going distant as he recalled a memory from far away, possibly Wisconsin. “Toes are nice, the pads are nice and smooth and the crunch is _phenomenal_.”

“Yes, cronch!” Jaskier cheered, using his weak twinky body to push Lambert down so that his toes were pointed into the air. “If your toes taste like cheese then we’ll stop calling you Pissdick Lamboy.”

Immediately, Lambert’s toes curled in. “What if… they don’t taste like cheese?” His eyes darted nervously between Eskel’s face and the door, making Eskel hard. “What if they taste like… voter fraud?”

“Trump,” Geralt snarled, gaze suddenly turning wild and filled with rage. “ _T r u m p_. No voter fraud. Your toes better taste good, Pissylamb.” With that, he crunched down on Lambert’s big toe, tongue caressing the pad for a moment before he swallowed with a lump in his throat.

Watching with wide eyes, Jaskier climaxed, his dick growing back with a resounding pop.

“Oh, Valdo, dear heart, the light of my life, how I missed you so,” Jaskier breathed out, trailing a reverent finger over his tiny, twitching shaft. “Now my wolves can have another feast, and Eskel can get his fill.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Geralt interrupted, turning his ire on the now not-dickless Jaskier. “Valdo Marx is your _penis?_ ”

“Yes, _obviously_ ,” Jaskier said. “What else would he be? He’s an excellent flutist, too.”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“You love me. And Valdo.”

“ _Why did you wish for your dick to die of apoplexy?_ ” Geralt roared.

“Oh, you know,” Jaskier said, waving a come-and-blood-covered hand. “I was incontinent at the time.”

“Does it make your dick taste better?” Lambert inquired eagerly, wiggling his toes, except all that was left of his big toe was a bloody stump, not unlike Among Us dead bodies. “I would like to try that. Eskel might like it.”

“SO YOU REALLY _DO_ HAVE A PISS KINK!” Jaskier crowed. “PISSDICK LAMBOY! PISSDICK LAMBOY!”

Lambert immediately began to have a tantrum, which was so unsexy that Eskel’s dick withered and fell off voluntarily.

“I guess…” Geralt said, eyes solemn, “That Pissdick Lamboy will always be Pissdick Lamboy. Even if his toes taste of Vesemir’s cooking.”

Eskel glared at Lambert. “Lambert. Be honest. Do you dip your toes in the soup before dinner?”

Lambert pissed himself, and began to lie poorly. “Nuh-uh” 

Jaskier blinked up at him like a proper twink, using his twinky seductive powers to get Lambert to confess. “Oh, come on, wolf,” he cooed, stroking his bloody hand up and down the bottom of Lambert’s foot. “Do admit it. We all know the truth.”

“Fine, fine!” Lambert cried out, unable to resist the temptation of Jaskier’s witchersexual charms. “I dip my toes into the soup because I like to go back to my room and suck them, okay??”

“Isn’t this a journey of self-discovery?” Eskel said drily. “Or rather, of Lambert-discovery. Toes _and_ omorashi? You’re spoiling us.”

“What?”

Eskel grinned wickedly. “This fuels me! For you see, Pissdick Lamboy, Sucker of Soup Toes - my personal kink is _kinkshaming!_ ”

“No kinkshaming! We’re all adults here!! Consume the content you want,” Jaskier said seriously. “If I want to consume dicks, I will do so. If I want to consume toes, I will also do so. Self policing! Curate your own culinary experience.”

“I thought this was a sex act,” Lambert said.

“No, wait, Eskel, _please_ continue kinkshaming. For you see,” Geralt said, standing up and pushing sudden anime glasses higher up his nose as the sunlight reflected off of them so brightly that Jaskier’s eyes, catching the glaze, melted into liquid and dribbled onto the floor, where Lambert began to eagerly lap it up like a dog - and not just any dog, but an inbred mongrel. “For you see, Eskel - my kink is _humiliation_!”

“Lol what a shit kink,” Eskel said, at which Geralt immediately orgasmed.

Jaskier watched Geralt’s orgasm with wide eyes, licking his lips. “I bet your come tastes horrible,” he sneered, making Geralt shudder in pleasure. “Like the electoral college.”

“Your penis probably thinks that Amy Coney Barrett was a good choice for the supreme court,” Lambert mocked, politically. “Your balls probably reported mail-in ballots as voter fraud.”

Geralt climaxed. “Did I vote Leave?” he asked desperately, needing the validation, needing the humiliation of having voted in such a stupid way. “Did I vote Republican? Did I vote Tory?”

“Not only did you do _all of these_ ,” Eskel declared, scorn visible in his eyes. “You also voted _against_ Scottish independence, and went to a BNP rally to pick up chicks!””

“Oh, no, oh, _yes_ ,” Geralt whimpered, shivering under the weight of the insults, pleasure coursing through his veins. “I am awful. Please humiliate me further, I have done so many awful things! Please - please tell me that I published a 90k long fic and only realised that I switched from past to present tense in chapter 8! Please tell me I wrote in first person!”

“Not only that,” Jaskier sneered, exchanging a mocking look with Valdo in his imagination, eyeless as he was, “but you _also_ drew a digital art piece to accompany it _without flipping the canvas_!”

“Not even once?” Geralt said weakly, punctuating the sentence with a moan of pleasure. “Did I leave all of my anatomy mistakes in? Did I make a lot of them?”

“So many, that everyone who viewed the art believed _you_ to be the mistake!”

At this, Geralt came.

Unable to see the wondrous sight of Geralt coming, Jaskier knelt down on the floor, trying to touch the sticky liquid with his hands, bringing his fingers to his lips and licking. “Wow, Geralt, you truly taste _awful_ , I can’t even see you and I know that the taste of your come is the most shameful on the Continent. I take back what I said earlier - it’s worse than the electoral college.”

“Really??” Geralt gasped, his incomplete dick rising to stand at attention again, his witcher stamina enabling him to get hard again, even though his poor penis was still half-eaten, blood still oozing from it, like slow-running rivulets, barely contained within the already-scabbing appendage. “Please tell me more, little lark, my songbird, please tell me more with that lovely voice of yours.”

Opening his mouth, his eyeless eye sockets glowing with the inspiration of song and music, Jaskier started singing, his voice as sweet as a lark, “THE TASTE OF YOUR COME?

“THE STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING TASTE OF YOUR COME GOD DAMN FOOL HALF-DICK-HAVING DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT WITCHER OF THE SCHOOL OF THE WHORE BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN COWBOY MOTHERFUCKING GERALT OF RIVIA AND THE TASTE OF HIS SHITTY FUCKING COME

“STOP PINNING ME WHEN I TALK ABOUT THE TASTE OF GERALT’S COME I HATE IT SO MUCH WHY DOES IT HAVE SO MANY FUCKED UP FLAVOURS WHY DID HE DECIDE TO FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT JUST SET THEM LOOSE IS HE DEAD IS HE A BASTARD MAN HIS COME HAS SUCH A VISCERAL AFFECT ON ME NOT EVEN IN THE ROOM NOT EVEN SEEING THIS MANS FACE AND I KNOW HE HAS THE WORLDS SHITTIEST COME GET AWAY FROM ME

“if i wanted to get into heaven and god said geralt of rivia came inside i would piss on gods feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back down

“if i have to deal with geralt’s come leaking out one drop in person before me during sex not only will my dick go limp, i will delete cut his dick off out of spite and have to regrow the entire thing again for the experience of being able to skip all the times when he is coming or alive

“i dont even know why i hate it so much. the come just tastes kind of bad but i am just mad because i am angy

“he better have some fucked up backstory to explain this if hes just some normal douchebag whos come just tastes a bit shitty ill go ham

“BETTER have had his come make him kill a man cuz if he didnt Im going to make him

“paypal.com/IFuckingHateTheTasteOfGeraltOfRiviasCome

“this is not even about him. vaguely mentioned what is supposed to maybe be his come and I lost it

“where the fuck is geralt of rivia and his sad disgusting come if hes still alive im going to so deeply wish he wasnt

“crusty old man

“ill punch geralt and his sad frail old man twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist and he will disintegrate until all thats left is one final vial of his own come he kept on him at all times simply labelled Now You Fucked Up in someone else’s better-tasting come

“im not breathing im hyperventilating at this point

“i hope theres a date given for when geralt dies or will die so i can make it a reminder on my phone

“everyday once a year i will see it and do anything but pay respects to the man who had such fucked-up-if-true disgusting fucking come.”

At this, Geralt orgasmed so hard and so violently that, not only did his half-eaten dick grow _back_ , he also grew three more dicks as an aside. One for each of his companions, and one for himself to eat.

Eskel smacked his lips together. “Now that,” he declared, rubbing his hands together with a greedy glint in his eyes, “Is what I call a _feast_.”

**Author's Note:**

> :3c


End file.
